


Stand By Me

by mockingjayne



Category: The Night Shift (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: A collection of TC/Jordan one shots.
Relationships: Jordan Alexander & T. C. Callahan, Jordan Alexander/T. C. Callahan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

“Yeah, just come get me when the tests come in,” Jordan asks with a smile, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her scrubs, turning to enter the hallway. She’s barely wiped the pleasantry from her mouth when she comes face to face with TC.

“Hey,” he says, his hair a bit longer, fading bruises adorning the same stubbled face she remembers, the same one that she can’t seem to wipe from her mind, her fingertips still feeling the prick of his face under her hand, even after all this time.

“You’re back,” she declares, stating the obvious, frozen in her spot.

“Uhh, yeah, got back a couple days ago,” he says with that damning grin, and she looks down so it misses its intended target.

“Great,” she flippantly says, moving to walk with a hop, her hair pulled in a ponytail, the lighter color catching the light and his eye, as she feels him tracking her, taking in all the changes, grin never leaving his lips.

It’s only when a patient is brought in that they jump into action, throwing the awkwardness aside, working seamlessly together like they always have.

He always says the first thing he ever noticed about her was her exemplary skills, and that damn pink sweater. A compliment if there ever was one, especially from him. But the first thing she ever noticed about him was how stupid he’d been to take the kind of risk he had. It was that same risk taking behavior that had probably led him to asking her out, a trait that had seemed so attractive that she’d bitten her lip and signed on for the rest of her life.

The trauma having been rectified, only the stitching of the patient left, it plunged them into silence.

She focuses on her steady, concise work, while he continues to stand across from her, his brown eyes never leaving her, as she focuses on the patient below them. The rest of the room having cleared, leaving the two to continue in this dance, prying eyes probably peering in from the front desk.

“Your hair, it’s different,” he says with a smirk.

“Don’t,” she says, not a command so much as a plea of defeat, blinking back her emotions.

“Jordan—“

“No, you don’t get to do that. Come waltzing back in here,” her voice rising, making direct eye contact with him, before glancing around at her volume, sure that someone was listening.

“I didn’t waltz, I rode,” he says like a smart ass, and she whips her head back to him.

“On your bike, of course,” she says, as if he just proved her point.

“Why do you care, it’s not like we’re together or you’re…” He stops himself, as she visibly balks, as if he’d slapped her across the face with his almost comment.

“Jordan, I’m—“

“It’s not like that stopped you before,” she says with a finality to her, that with one last snip she finishes her work, tossing her tools on the tray with a clang, and TC closes his eyes at the noise, gritting his teeth.

She’s out the door before he opens them again.

The anger in her had risen to its boiling point. What she had meant to say, “I’m glad you’re okay,” “I’m glad you’re back,” had somehow morphed into anger, frustration, a myriad of emotions swirling around, coming out in nothing but accusations and snippy comments that had been building from before. 

The rest of the shift is spent avoiding him, assigning others to cases he was on, all the while realizing her behavior was somewhat juvenile, the silent treatment doing neither of them any good. But it had been a hard year. The loss she’d been dealing with, now piling on her shoulders in the wake of Topher leaving, responsibility given back to her. It was a lot.

The morning sun beats against her face, bringing out the freckles hidden under her makeup. Taking her hair out of its ponytail, she rests her head against the wall of the hospital, leaning back to soak up the rays with closed eyes, before it got too hot to be bearable outside, which was all too quickly here.

She hears his shoes on the pavement before she can feel him sitting next to her, all of a sudden the heat becoming too much, and she brings her head back down, her hair sticking to the various bumps of the building, pulling on her head slightly.

“Do you remember our first date?” He asks her, his knees pulled up, his arms resting on his knees.

His eyes are waiting for an answer he knows she knows, but they’re not eager and excited like usual, instead sad, mouth pursed.

She nods, the grip on her wrist to keep her knees close to her chest tightening, not knowing where this conversation is going.

“You asked me a question,” he admits with a laugh. “I thought it was going to be something about the army or med school…you remember?”

She smiles at the memory, a younger version of the two of them, so naive, so untouched by the trauma they were going to not only have inflicted on them, but by each other. She’d promised him one drink, they’d had three before they’d ended back at her apartment, the start of their tumultuous race to the fiery finish.

“I asked how you felt about dogs,” she says with a laugh of her own.

He shakes his head with a bark of laughter.

“You were so adamant that you couldn’t be with someone who didn’t like dogs.”

“It’s a good rule to have,” she says, matter of factly.

“How’d that work out?” He says with a pointed look at her.

She tilts her head at him, narrowed eyes.

“It got you talking, up until that point you were a closed book.”

His head moves side to side, contemplating her statement, deciding it to be true with a hint of a grin.

“And now?” He asks.

Her smile fades, and her hand releases her wrist, giving way for her elbows to rest on her knees, her hands coming to push her hair behind her ears with a sigh.

“We never talked about it…” she trails off, chancing a look in his direction. And she swears she can see the moment he begins to hold his breath. “The miscarriage,” she finishes, giving the final shot, and he exhales like he’d been hit.

“I uhh, didn’t want to talk then, still don’t,” he says with a clenched jaw.

She closes her eyes in defeat not for the first time today, refusing to cry.

“I lost you both that day,” he releases into the silence, the heels of his hands coming to his eyes, his tears not as cooperative as her own.

Her knees fall, and before she knows it, she’s moving to lean down in front of him, her hands coming to cradle his face in the same way she’d wanted to before, the stubble pricking her fingers the way she remembered it would, this time wet with his tears, soaking into her hands.

His sad brown eyes coming to meet the now teary green of her own, the emotions of the last few months finally released.

“T, you didn’t lose me,” she whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

Jordan sits silently in the passenger seat of her car, almost shell shocked, her mouth hanging agape.

“That was…” TC starts, squinting to find the right words, one hand on the wheel, glancing over at Jordan.

“Awful,” she finishes for him, shaking her head.

He gives out a laugh.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad,” he says with a grimace.

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve…ours won’t be like that, right?” She asks, panic tinging her voice, as her head whips to his direction. As if the thought had just crossed her mind that that could be her every day life.

“No,” he assures her, reaching for her hand across the console. “No…our kid…well, there will only be one, so that’ll help I’m sure,” he says with a grin.

“I mean I’ve heard of the terrible twos, but they’re not even two, it’s gonna get worse than that…” she trails off, her free hand coming to her slightly rounded stomach.

The news of their impending parenthood had struck them in ways they were still comprehending. A chronic worry that seemed to swirl around in her mind, each day presenting new and un-thought-of fears that suddenly came screaming into focus.

She’d jumped at the opportunity to watch Topher’s twins, giving the parents a much needed night off.

They should’ve known by the sly grin, and the way Topher’s wife had pushed him out of the door with urgency, that they were in over their heads. Perhaps twins had not the best way to dip their toes into the parenting pool, instead having jumped into the deep end without a life vest. The two of them struggling through the night, having to scream to each other over the cries.

“Jor—“ TC starts, and then cuts himself off with a laugh. He untangles his hand from her own to reach into her hair, dried oatmeal cemented into her brown locks.

“How…how does that even happen!?” She asks, throwing her head back against the headrest.

“It’s okay—“

“We’re gonna be terrible parents. Our kid will be out of control, and we’ll never sleep again, and you’ll still be riding that bike,” she rattles off, her stress level rising as the reasons keep piling up.

“Woah, hey, what does my bike have to do with it?” He says with a scoff.

“You’re still riding it, are you not?” A glare shot right at him.

He closes his mouth, biting back a smile at her irritation.

Just when the silence seems to have engulfed them both, they pull into parking lot of his apartment, turning the car off. The heat of the night quickly making its way into the car without the air conditioner on.

Her tears now illuminated by the lights, her cheeks glistening with the fear of the unknown.

“I can’t do this by myself,” she whispers through silent sobs.

And there it is, the one fear that had been strangling her since the moment she’d found out she was pregnant, multiplied when he’d taken off to help Topher across the globe, waking up in a hospital bed, alone. It’s the same fear she found scratching at the back of her throat every single time he rode that bike of his.

She needed him. And she lived with the very real fear that him being there would become an impossibility.

“Hey,” he says, placing both of his hands on her cheeks, leaning her towards him, awkwardly situated across the car. “I can’t promise you that I’ll always be there,” he starts.

And the car echoes with her sob, the tears traveling down into his hand, soaking up her fear, and taking it on as his own. The wrack of her body with her cries, shaking them both.

“You’re not doing a very good job—“ she sniffles, “at easing my mind.”

“But…” he says with a tilt of his head, leaning it against her forehead. “I can promise that I will always try my best to be here,” he finishes.

Her hands coming to settle in his hair.

“Was that better?” He teases, the sincerity of his words still present even through his joke.

“Yeah,” she admits, her cries settling.

“You smell like baby oatmeal,” he whispers against her, causing her to laugh against him.

“You better get used to that,” she warns.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says. “And if not, well, Topher owes us one.”

“He definitely does after tonight,” she says with a smile.

TC places his hand on her little stomach, and they both stare down at the gesture, the promise he’d made hanging in the air between them.


	3. Chapter 3

Colors floated all around them, the sound of music playing in the background, the smell of fried food wafting in the air, permeating them all into the mood for Fiesta. 

The crowd of people feeling a little claustrophobic, keeping up with a wandering toddler that insisted on walking herself, Jordan’s worried eyes constantly glancing down, almost tripping herself up as she watched her baby girl walk unsteadily, but so happily carrying cascarones in each hand.

“T, watch her,” she says, as the girl toddles near the curb, the worry evident in her voice. The crowd making her more nervous than her husband, who seemed to be much more at peace with the looming unknown than she was.

“She’s fine,” he says with a laugh, as the string from her paper crown halo trails down her back, leaving a hued stream trailing behind her in curls, the colors contrasting with her dark hair.

The young girl gets to the curb, her green eyes squinting at the obstacle. Jordan’s mouth moving to tuck her lips in in amusement. As TC crouches down next to her, letting his baby figure it out herself, but unwilling to leave her hanging if she needed him. Jordan pulls her hand from her jean pockets, coming to rest on his shoulder in his position.

The curious child looks at both hands, finding them both full, and delicately refusing to cash in her eggs for confetti just yet, just barely lifting her leg, contemplating how big of a step she’d need to get up. Then stomps her sandaled foot down, a determined look on her face.

“I know that face,” Jordan says, what would be a whisper coming out louder due to the noise.

TC glances up at her, his eyebrows raised with a goofy grin, because she’s not wrong. Despite their daughter looking exactly like her mother, a trait he never lets her forget, she’s a bit of a daredevil like her father.

Scrunching her little face, freckles dotting her cheeks and nose, she takes a big jump, attempting to hop onto the curb. The results ending in a slipped foot, crushed eggs, and what appears to be a scraped knee.

As soon as she falls, they both jump to hover above her, expecting the tears to well in her eyes, creating emerald gems that had both of them melting whenever those teary eyes were released on them.

“Clara, you okay?” He asks her worriedly, willing to let her try whatever, but the first to over protectively soothe whatever ailed her.

Jordan’s moves to examine her knee, looking like a red strawberry covering her entire knee, but not blood, which was good. Her thumb slowly moving across the scrape, trying to soothe the girl. But Clara pays no mind, instead looking down at her cascarones that are now severely cracked, the confetti pouring out from her hands to the pavement below her.

She holds her hands up sadly to her dad, whose brown eyes refuse to leave his baby.

“Broken,” she says in a tiny voice, almost like a question.

“No,” he says, balking back with his neck, his brown eyes huge, in a voice he reserved only for Clara. “Not broken,” he says, revealing two more eggs from his own hands. Jordan’s worry melting away, as he distracts the girl, a smile lining her face, as he proceeds to crush one of the eggs atop her head, spilling the confetti over her head.

Childish giggles escape Clara as pieces of the color float down onto her dark lashes, throwing her limbs out, not even acknowledging the injury.

TC’s face alight with joy, his daughter often the cause of his anxiety to melt away, the problems of the past seeming to dim whenever she was there to brighten his life.

“My turn!” She exclaims. “Mama,” she says innocently, pretending to be doing nothing, but Jordan knows what’s coming next. 

“Yes, Clare bear,” she says, bending lower, offering herself for the taking. The confetti floating down her head as Clara smashes the remaining egg over her head with a giggle.

“Oop, you got me!” She says, matching colors now adorning both of their heads.

The music gets louder, signaling the start of the parade.

“Come on, time to see the floats,” he says, catching her attention back from her mother.

For the first time, she glances down at her knee, still bright red from the fall.

“Owie,” she points, staring up at them.

TC leans forward, kissing the little girl’s knee, her now free hands coming to tangle in his hair, the bond the two of them share something Jordan never doubted from the moment she was placed in his arms.

“All better?” He asks, and she nods, before extending her arms for him to pick her up.

Scooping her into his arms, he situates her on his shoulders, his grip tight so she won’t fall. “Callahan girls are tough,” he proclaims.

“Yeah!” Clara agrees.

“You tell ‘em.” Jordan encourages, with a shake of her head at his statement.

They stand by the curb, waiting for the floats to start passing them by, the heat of the April day refusing to quit even with the sun going down, the humidity clinging to every surface.

Clara hums along with the music atop his shoulders.

“That’s a good look for you,” he says with a raised brow, alluding to her speckled hair.

“You too,” she says, nodding to the child attached to his hair.

“We did good,” he says, confident in his statement.

And she thinks back to a time when she’d been convinced they were done. That it was time to move on, having lost a baby and the man she had wanted to be her’s for so many years, convinced the damage could never be repaired. Now standing here, together, their daughter just as enamored with the man standing beside her as she was.

“We did,” she says, her hand coming to rest on his back, the long road home having finally landed them somewhere good.


	4. Chapter 4

Jordan’s hand shakes against the phone, the voice on the other line melting into white noise, as her eyes flutter shut, the curls of her hair shielding her stricken face from the people around her.

The only alert of something wrong is the strangled gasp that comes from her mouth at the news. Tears immediately spring to her eyes, turning them to a vibrant emerald that glisten as they flutter back open, wetting her eyelashes, the sprinkle of salt staining her cheeks.

The hospital seems to spin in place, and she stumbles backwards, the line going dead, and she’s left with only the screaming distress of her heart, twisting in a vice grip, threatening to strangle the life out of her.

_“Promise me you’ll be safe.”_

_“I’m always safe,” He retorts, a boyish grin appearing, causing his face to crinkle, a slight wince flickering as his bloody eye crinkles with charm._

_Jordan’s mussed hair creates a dark halo around her against the pillowcase, as she turns to face him, laying the full gaze of her serious tone onto him. Her hand comes out to gently graze the bruise that seems to be growing more distinct and damaging by the second._

_“Clearly,” she jokes with a shake of her head._

_He reaches out to her, finding grasp on her waist, pulling her closer._

_“Had I known going overseas would lead me here, I’d have signed up sooner,” he tries to tease, but she shuts him down quickly, smacking his chest lightly._

_“Not funny,” she says, her hair slipping into her eyes, as she lowers her head, lost in her thoughts, staring at the hand that rests against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips._

_“I’ll be back in a few weeks, and then…” he stops, not really sure what happens after that, and she can’t blame him. Their relationship always seemed to be tricky, even when broken up, they seemed to gravitate towards each other. Neither one of them ever convinced that that breakup would be the end of the them, merely a break before they fell right back into each other’s arms. The grip they seemed to have on each other’s hearts never loosened, rather existing as a habit, unaware and uninhibited, only tugged into consciousness when one of them got too far away._

_“Not our smartest move,” Jordan admits, her fingernail digging into his skin, the prick not even phasing him, his hand coming to cradle the side of her face, and her eyes peek up from their dark lashes to meet his soft, brown gaze._

_“Not our dumbest either,” he counters, and her forehead moves to take the place of her hand, meeting his chest with a smile. Memories of what could have qualified as their dumbest decision flooding back to her, their intern year much of a blur._

_“How about we just focus on you coming home in one piece,” she whispers against him, and she can feel the his grip become tighter on her. The very real possibility that that could not happen one that he knew all too well._

_A very different life they’d be living had Thad not been killed. One that never involved them moving to Texas, and a ring that she would’ve happily accepted. The idea seeming so far out of her reach at this moment, the only thing within her grasp was the man before her, and she was once again having to relinquish him over to the danger that he seemed to run straight towards._

_“Okay,” he agrees, placing a kiss against her head, his thumb sweeping against her cheek, a physical comfort she’d miss, having just gained back._

_“Just…be careful over there, okay?” She speaks into him, one last plea, the moisture of her words sinking into him, resting comfortably._

_“You be careful over here,” he responds back, his head maneuvering its way to her bare shoulder, his stubble scratching her with its sincerity of his words, a physical promise to return._

She can feel herself spinning, her hand reaching out to grip the counter, her knuckles going a ghostly white as she holds onto her cool in the same grasp her balance.

“You okay, Jordan?” She can faintly hear Mollie ask, but she can’t form words, only shaking her head no, as she stumbles back again, despite her grip. And before she knows it, she’s being gently lowered into a chair.

Vaguely recognizing that they’re trying to get her attention, but unable to focus, she finds herself heaving forward, her stomach unable and unwilling keep her secret any longer. The contents of her dinner landing on the floor, as a swirl of people all turn their attention to her, a comforting hand landing on her back, soothing her, but her eyes keep darting to the phone.

“Do you have the flu, sweetie?” She’s asked, and again, a shake of her head, her hand coming to land against her stomach. Eyebrows raised around her, as if she was reliving the last year of her life all over again.

Drew’s swiveled her chair to face him, bent down to get her attention, her face pale and unresponsive, her breathing heavy, as if unable to catch her breath.

“Jordan,” he says, and she sees him, her eyes wild and panicky. “What’s wrong?”

She can hear the word pregnant whispered through the crowd now assembled around her.

“T…” she starts, her eyes welling with tears again, her hand never leaving her stomach, the only form of him she has a grip on. His promise to return in a few weeks had turned into a couple of months, his avoidance after finding out about Topher only adding to the distance between them. The truth landing on the tip of her tongue. “TC’s hurt.”

And just like that, the promise is broken, all bets off, and the future even more unclear than before.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun beat down on the two of them, the humidity permeating through their clothes, the striped shirt she was wearing suddenly feeling heavier on her. 

The light cast its way down on her lighter hair, contrasting with the heavy feeling that seemed to rest on her shoulders. 

He’s standing so close to her, close enough that she could reach out and touch him, but she refrains, unsure of where they stand. The grief only just now washing over him, having had a month to bury it somewhere underneath the adrenaline. Now home, only for the real world to smack him upside the head, unable to run from the truth standing in front of him.

As they wind their way through the parking lot, the silence speaks volumes between them. But she’d vowed to stay beside him for this, not wanting him to be thrown in the deep end, struggling to swim through what was sure to be a difficult moment for him.

When he’d approached her at the end of her shift, setting the keys down in front of her, she’d known immediately what had happened. She didn’t ask questions, just settled her purse over her shoulder and waited for him to lead the way.

His boots beating against the pavement a familiar staccato she’d long since memorized, his long strides shortened, as if prolonging their destination. Her face becoming more and more solemn as they see the red peeking out from its place between the white lines.

Stopping in front of the car, a sad smile comes to his face, jingling the keys around in his hand, unable to unlock the past.

Her hand comes out, stilling his jerky nerves, hoping to convey the warmth and comfort she wanted so badly to provide him. Having spent months worried about his safety, and later his wellbeing after delivering that call, the rest of her attempts having fallen on deaf ears with excuse after excuse not to answer.

He looks at her, his bottom lip quivering, and she’s seen that look only a few times in her life, all of which involved yet another person taken from him. Altruistically risking his life to save everyone, and yet unable to keep those he cared for the most safe. One by one, stripping him of his lifelines, until he felt like he was floating in a sea of grief with only her to hold him up most days.

He was strong, she had no doubt about that, not just physically, but emotionally capable of doing what he needed to do to survive. But every once in a while, he needed help, and she wanted to be the one he reached for.

“You can do this,” she says, her free hand coming to settle on his back, rubbing slow circles on his jacket.

He nods, jerking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, and then sucking in a breath, before gesturing for her to get in, walking around to unlock the doors.

Settling into the hot leather seat, she can feel the burn from the car having been sitting out in the parking lot, he heat seeping into her like a fire, urging her to look at the man beside her.

“Do you, uh, do you remember when he first got this car?” He asks, his eyes squinting at the memory.

Her head dips, her hair falling into her face, a smile appearing.

“He had that strict no food policy,” He voices, the grin growing at picturing Topher going on about how he wanted the car to be pristine.

“And the first time we got in here, you brought us tacos,” she laughs.

“‘Please tell me, they’re not doing what I think they’re doing,’” TC mocks in his best Topher impression, and Jordan bursts into a laugh, throwing her head back.

“I think you’re forgetting the part where you dropped the taco in the backseat,” she reminds him, as he starts the car, the purr of the engine matching the gruff laugh that accompanies it from him.

“He never let me forget,” he whispers, his hand on the wheel, as if his friend was right in front of him, still chastising him, his laugh tapering off as the realization that he wasn’t going to see him again sinks in.

Digging into his pocket, he yanks out something, cradling it in the fist of his palm, before reaching for the rearview mirror.

And then it’s dangling from the mirror, Topher’s dog tags, the etching of the metal, his name felt by TC’s finger tracing the letters.

A quiet moment, the passing of the car over to another, and she gazes over at the man who deserved so much better than the hand he’d been dealt.

“So, where to?” He asks, breaking the silence, preparing to back out.

“I don’t know, you just got home, where do you want to go?” She asks, letting him take the wheel, literally, to how they’d steer this…whatever this was.

“I was thinking tacos…” He says, sending her a look, and she bursts into laughter again.


	6. Chapter 6

The sky slowly changes from orange to pink, the colors signaling dusk, as the the sun goes down on their day. The waitress walks by, lighting the candles on the various tables, the air stagnant, the heat unrelenting in august, not even attempting to blow out the flame being lit.

Jordan smiles down at her plate, as Drew takes a bite of his sandwich, only to jump abruptly when something warm and fuzzy brushes against his leg.

The table bursts into laughter, a panting dog staring up at him, before he’s quietly called back to his table.

TC’s hand coming to his mouth, as Rick wraps his arm around Drew, a giant smile on his face.

“You know, people should really watch their dogs,” Drew tries to reason, but cracks a toothy grin by the end of the sentence, as Jordan as already leaned over enticingly teasing the dog to come back.

“I think you have this one to blame,” TC tilts his head to her, and she pointedly turns towards him, her green eyes flickering in the light on the table.

“She’s cute,” Jordan throws out, as if that explains everything. “Besides, our daughter’s off terrorizing other tables,” she gestures towards the little girl racing through the tables, gripping Bri’s fingertips, her little sandals smacking the grass, giggling at Bri’s long hair touching the top of her head, as she bends over to talk to her.

“I can’t tell who’s more smitten, Bri or Clara,” Rick says, resting his head on his hand, staring off at the two of them.

“Clare nearly face planted it into a cactus to get to her earlier, so I’d say she’s pulled ahead,” TC jokes, stealing a fry from Jordan’s plate, her hand coming out to smack it away. Her face scrunching at him, and he makes a hurt face, but his eyes glinting with amusement give him away.

“I can’t believe she’s leaving for college soon,” Drew says, a forlorn look on his face.

“She’s still got a year,” Rick says, grabbing his hand and squeezing, causing Jordan to smile at the gesture.

“They grow up fast,” TC says, taking a swig of his beer, glancing over at the girls, and Jordan knows he’s thinking about how it felt like just yesterday that they were bringing their baby girl home from the hospital, nothing but dark wispy hair, and a whimpery cry that sent him into a panic every single time.

Clara had had him firmly wrapped her around her finger from the moment he found about her, and the grip had only become tighter as the years had gone by.

“They sure do,” Rick agrees.

“I was talking about Drew here,” TC says with a grin, pointing his beer at the man.

“Hmm, I thought you were referring to yourself, for sure,” Drew fires back, and Jordan snickers next to him.

“He’s got you there,” She says, pointing her own fork at him, knowing full well that while he was still running towards the danger, it was at a slower pace, and with a thoughtful glance behind at his family. Never changing who he was, but cognizant of the ones who needed him.

TC acquiesces, tilting his head side to side with a grin, knowing full well what they’re referring to.

“Puppy!” They hear shrieked from Clara, as she races over to the dog that had come by earlier, wrapping her tiny arms around it’s neck, thankfully a friendly dog, that their daredevil child had decided to ignore previous warnings about not doing exactly that. Bri hot behind her heels, but quickly sitting down with the little girl, and joining in, a giant tongue licking the teenager’s face.

Jordan holds up her half full glass.

“To changing for the better,” she toasts, the rest of the table following suit, grabbing their glasses and clinking them together, the group having been through it all together, and having come out on the other side, more content, and with a full life none of them could’ve imagined before.


	7. Chapter 7

Jordan sits on her couch, a pile of discarded tissues surround her, looking like a snow storm of sickness has landed at her doorstep. She knows it’s nothing serious, just a cold, but it’s completely knocked her out, draining her of all her energy, leaving her with a stuffed up nose, and a miserable Jordan in return.

Slowly lowering herself to a laid down position, she pulls her heavy blanket over herself, the new angle causing her to feel a bit like she’s drowning in her own mucus, and she rolls her eyes. HGTV blared on in the background, a happy couple from Waco fully functioning and able to do their jobs, unlike herself.

She’d fought the good fight, but there was just no way she could’ve gone in and infected all her patients.

Angrily grabbing another tissue, she shoves it up both her nostrils just as she hears a knock at her door.

Her droopy eyes look towards where the noise is coming from.

Reluctantly, she shuffles to the door in a pair of old socks TC had left behind, her blanket wrapped around her like a cape.

“Whoa, that’s umm, that’s quite a look,” TC teases upon seeing her, and her face immediately deflates, realizing that she still had a tissue pushed up her nose. She has half a mind to grab it, but TC’s seen her at her worst, this certainly won’t deter him.

“What are you doing here,” she says in a nasally voice that sounds a bit like she’s struggling for air.

“I heard you were sick so…” He says, holding up a bag and a thing of soup.

She gives a small smile, moving aside for him to enter, and he lets out a laugh at the mess she’d made for herself at the couch.

“I forgot what a miserable sick person you are,” he teases, and she makes a face that suggests now is not the time to mess with her.

Plopping down on the couch, he waits for her to join him, and she tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself.

As she settles, he moves so her feet are propped up on his lap, her head resting against a pillow.

“Thief,” he says, looking down at the socks she wore.

“You can’t steal what’s left behind,” she argues, and he concedes with a grin.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asks, and she narrows her eyes, hating that he knows her so well.

“This morning when I got home…” she tries to lie, but he knows better.

“For what, an hour?” He says, his finger gently massaging her feet, her eyes closing for the briefest of moments, unsure if it was due to the pressure he seemed to place in just the right spot or the drowsiness of the medication working its way through her.

“That feels good,” she admits, yanking the tissue out of her nose and throwing it towards the pile on the floor.

“You know they have this thing called a trash can,” he says with a laugh.

She groans, a raspy thing that comes out as more of a cough than anything.

“I’m sick, you have to be nice to me,” she whines. The always confident and capable doctor making the absolute worst patient.

“I’m always nice to you,” he says with a wink, reaching for the soup. “How about you try to get some of this in you before you pass out,” he suggests.

She shakes her head no, pulling the blanket higher up on her face.

“Okay, hold on,” he says, gently placing her feet down, before heading into the kitchen to put the soup in the fridge.

When he makes his way back in, she’s sitting up reaching for the remote.

“Easy there,” he warns, picking up the remote as he comes to sit next to her.

“I’m not an invalid,” she says with a pout.

“Oh I know that, believe me,” he says, shaking his hair out of his face.

The settle on a movie both of them had seen at least a handful times together, probably more separately.

It’s not long before her eyes start to close, each time longer than last, her head lowering to rest on TC’s shoulder. Her medication finally giving her a brief period of relief, weighing her down, and snuggling into the crook of his neck.

She can feel him move next to her, and for the briefest moment she swears she can feel his lips against her forehead, but for all she knows, that could just be the medicine messing with her already weary mind.

“T,” she lets out a raspy whisper.

“Yes…”

“Thank you,” she lets out in a strangled voice.

“I didn’t do anything really,” his stubble brushing against her head as he speaks.

“You’re…here,” she says in a faint voice, drifting off by the end, but she knows that he’ll get what she’s saying. For so many years he was gone, leaving her behind. This time, he was here. With her. And she was grateful.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers to her sleeping form.


	8. Chapter 8

TC hisses in pain, as Jordan dabs at his wound with a cotton ball.

She juts her hip out, her hands coming to her side, a skeptical look on her face.

“Come on, you’ve had worse,” she teases, and he cocks his head to the side, a grin appearing that suggests that she’s not wrong.

Her baggy shirt hangs off of her frame, the neckline so large that it goes over one shoulder, the other clinging to the side of her neck.

Paint clings to various parts of her, most noticeably on a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

“Had someone not thrown their paint brush at my head…” he teases, shaking his hair out of his face, and her hand comes to grab at his chin to steady him.

“It slipped from my hand,” she says with a smile, moving to look at the cut that the metal part of the brush had hit him at just the right angle.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” he replies, his hand coming to rest on her wrist, staring up at her green eyes.

“You’re fine,” she says with a push at his chin, marking him further with some paint that had been on her thumb.

“I survive war zones, but my own house…” he keeps goading, earning him an eye roll.

“Our house,” she corrects with a sheepish smile.

“Of course,” he says, as she moves to pick up the evidence in question, the paint brush she’d been using.

Moving towards the wall they’d all but finished before the incident.

“I think it looks good,” she says, admiring their work. When she’d suggested the idea, she’d known that it was something a little more permanent than they were used to. It was a commitment enough to have moved into a house together, even more to actually make it their own. “What do you think?”

She’s met with silence.

Peeking behind her, she sees him still sitting on the arm of the plastic covered couch, his back to her.

Turning, she moves behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she approaches, only looking down as she rests her chin on his shoulder.

There in his hands, that same ring she’d seen before. The one he’d presented her with on one of the worst days of her life. When she’d felt like everything was crashing down around her, TC having been missing again, leaving her, only to return to deliver bad news. She’s rejected that ring, that proposal, that man.

The man she couldn’t trust. The one she loved, no question, but who also left at the drop of a dime, that seemed put everything else above her.

It had been several years since she’d told him no. Separation and time working its way between them, forcing them to grow up in ways they couldn’t imagine, and eventually drift back together.

She doesn’t say a word to him, just quietly rests against him, until he laces their fingers together, her hand dangling over his chest, anchored only to his own, guiding her to come around and face him.

“Jordan…” he says with a deep sigh and a nervous smile. “I knew from the moment I met you that we weren’t meant to be.”

She laughs, her hand coming to her mouth.

“Romantic,” she says through her laughter.

It only encourages him to continue.

“Love isn’t a choice. I couldn’t stop myself from loving you anymore than I could predict the events that would happen with us. But this, what we have, that’s a choice. It’s something we work at, something we learn from, try to make better every day.” He gives another sigh, a smile coming to his face on the exhale.

“We weren’t meant to be, every obstacle has been thrown in our way, including my own pride. But that’s why I know this will work. Because we choose this. Every day we choose each other, we choose to work harder, because we know we love each other. We know we can make it for better or worse, because we’ve been through the worst. And we’re stronger, together, for it.”

She finds herself nodding yes before he’s even asked the question. And tears prick his eyes, the past decade plus leading to this moment right here.

“Jordan…will you choose to marry me?”

She moves impossibly close to him, her paint streaked hair whispering across his face with her answer.

“Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

The florescent lights shine down on Jordan, illuminating their truth to her, the mirror of the bathroom sink reflecting back to her a moment similar to this one only a few years ago.

Her hand had been shaking, like a stick of dynamite, ever so carefully carrying the news that had not only turned their relationship on its head, but also played into the demise of said relationship in the end.

She had barely gotten to the good part, her stomach never curving to fit a growing baby, instead it had remained flat, eventually barren, like a hollow hole had been ripped through her.

Jordan finds herself tearing up, a traitor of a drop sliding her cheek before taking the leap onto her shirt, soaking its allegiance into her shirt.

The months after she’d lost the baby, she’d found all she could do was cry. Her arm reaching out in the middle of the night, only to find the other side of the bed empty, gone. Just like he’d been when she’d needed him the most, false promises and a future wrapped in the loss, tossed to the wind in the reckless abandon in which TC had chosen to live his life.

Choosing to take his grief and feed into the adrenaline, keeping as much distance as he could from her, taking the rejection of his proposal personally.

But she couldn’t help but see the that child that could’ve been every time she looked at him, a scalpel twisting its way into her flesh, cutting through the layers of skin to the heart of the problem.

He never chose her. Not even when she was pregnant had he chosen her, them, their family.

Her hand comes to her still flat stomach, small smile plays on her face, determined for this time to be different.

With a deep sigh, she tucks the test into her bag, and rushes out of the bathroom to meet TC, who’s waiting against the wall, that he pushes himself off of to keep in stride with her bouncy step.

“I’m gonna cook for you this morning,” he says, walking backwards to meet her eyes, his gait steady, his boots balancing him on the tiled floor below, as they head out onto the pavement, already heating up with the sun.

A sly smirk makes its way to her face, as she tilts her head in surprise.

“On one condition,” she says, holding up her finger, as she digs through her purse for her keys.

“What’s that?” He says, a hint of an accent tinging his words, and it makes her smile when it makes its appearance.

She looks up from her task.

“You don’t burn down our new kitchen,” she warns with a teasing glint in her green eyes.

He steps into her space, his hands finding their way to her neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent cook,” he says, his long hair tickling her forehead.

“I’ve had burnt toast that suggests otherwise,” she says into his lips, as he leans in with a laugh.

Her hands falling to her sides, as the contents of her purse fall to the ground.

“Crap,” she says against him, and he backs up a step so they can gather what’s now scattered on the ground.

Jordan scoops up the keys she had been looking for, glancing around to see what else had fallen, when she sees TC holding the pregnancy test she’d shoved into her bag.

She freezes, her hand coming to her mouth, the same ring she’d once rejected, now glittering in the sun, casting brilliant rays of light onto the shocked face of TC.

Her eyes close, a nervous laugh playing in her head from the last time, the way she’d just blurted it out, no getting around the news any longer, and the way his face had lit up with excitement, dissipating her worry for the time being.

The squint of her brow as she opens her eyes, the sun glaring right at her, blinding her momentarily. The white light giving way to a white van, and TC stepping out, sealing his place with the team, with her. For once, choosing to stay, and work through it, rather than run off.

“Jordan?” He says, holding up the test towards her, a teetering expression of anticipation paired with apprehension aligning his face.

The time between the moment he’d chosen to stay, and the one playing out right in front of her, littered with words, promises of never leaving, and this time the actions to back it up. A late night conversation, one in which she didn’t have to pry from him, that revealed how deeply he’d taken the loss, piling it on his shoulders with all the others in the form of guilt. A promise of a stability in the keys of a house that they now shared. A future that rested on her finger. A nod proclaiming her answer before he could even ask.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks anyway, a watery smile of a nod continues to play on her face. His arms coming to wrap around her, his jeaned knees scraping against the pavement, to get to her, as balances on the balls of her feet to meet his hug.

She can feel his tears hitting her shirt, saturating the dried ones shed by her earlier.

The two of them have blown through chance after chance throughout the years, attempting time and time again to build on what they’d laid down as a foundation, never quite ready to say goodbye, instead waiting around at the finish line to start over again.

And as they sat crumpled together in a parking lot, she realized that every day since he’d chosen to stay, he’d made his choice known, standing firmly next to her even when his instincts were screaming to run. He’d fought for so much throughout his life, and this time, he’d chosen to fight for them, for a future legacy.

Pulling back, his hands are caught in her dark hair, and her thumb strokes gently across the stubble of his face.

“You ready for this?” She asks, the fear of losing everything all over again threatening to overtake the excitement.

He leans his forehead against her own.

“No more goodbyes,” he whispers into her, and she knows this time it’s a promise he intends to keep.


	10. Chapter 10

Jordan sits down at the table of the break room, gripping her coffee cup like a lifeline. The hot liquid stinging her hands through the thin material holding it in its place. The burn reminding her that she was still here, not numb to the news that she seemed to keep receiving.

She closed her eyes, thinking of the last time she’d seen her. A moment between the two of them that had finally shed some clarity on their situation. The two women never really able to get along, both too headstrong, stubborn in their own ways, and unrelenting in their stance. All because of a guy, the same one that had left, leaving Jordan to pick up the pieces of the blonde woman, that was pretty much family.

Her fingertip traces the plastic top of her cup, her fingernail catching on the hole, and she sighs.

The slamming of the door flying open, hitting the wall, a fury of Irish temper storming into the room, and she flinches on instinct, before seeing who it is, and settling for the sadness that had permeated its way through the hospital once again.

She doesn’t say a word, instead waits for him to realize she’s also there, before he sits in the chair next to her, his elbows hitting the table, his fingers tangling in his hair, and the heels of his palm digging into his eyes.

Hesitating to reach out, she instead keeps her gaze focused on her cup until he moves, hitting the back of his chair, a forlorn expression on his face.

She can see him twitching, the need for flight so close she can feel it on him, vibrating at a frequency only she was accustomed to. He’d chosen to stay with her, but another blow, another person he couldn’t save slammed into his chest, nearly forcing him back, his foot tapping in his boots, ready to run.

Her hand reaches out, settling on his forearm.

“I’m so sorry, T,” she says, her eyes wet with sincerity.

He nods, his lip jutting out, jaw clenched.

“Damn it,” he groans, one of his hands coming up to roughly wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall to their peril.

Her thumb rubs slow circles across his skin, and she can see him glance down at the motion, before placing his other hand over top her own.

“If I had been here…” he starts, going down the same road as always, collecting all the blame, if there ever was any, and quietly placing it on his shoulders to bear the weight, sinking further and further down.

“You couldn’t have done anything,” she assures him, leaning her head towards his. The tears escaping from her own eyes, giving a brilliant green hue to them. “It’s not your fault,” and although she’s saying the words to him, and he’s nodding like he understands, she knows that it’s going to take more than that to get him to see the truth.

“I…” he hesitates, almost as if afraid he’ll say too much, but he must see the pleading in her eyes, feel her warm hand, and the years of history that assure him that she can handle whatever he’s going to say. “I keep losing everyone,” he admits, a heaving sigh that rumbles his chest, and tears at her heart.

The past year filled with tragedy after tragedy, the death toll of this hospital seemingly taking more his family and friends than actual patients.

“You still have me,” she says, her free hand coming to run through his hair, soothing him quietly.

His eyes meet hers, and she nods, tilting her head with a sad smile, refusing to give up on them now. She’d just gotten him back, and she wasn’t about to lose him again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she further reiterates, hoping that he knows as much. The one constant she can provide him, her unwavering support, together or not. She was there.

He moves in, resting his forehead against her own, as if breathing her in, a life support, living, breathing proof that he wasn’t alone. And then he moves, and she thinks he’s going to pull away from her, distance himself before taking off. But he only moves to burrow his head into her neck, his lips whispering over her skin.

“Me either,” he confirms, this time choosing to deal with their grief together.


	11. Chapter 11

The blonde staggers over to him, leaning against the bar, her face down, staring right up at him.

“Hey,” she says with a bright smile.

TC gives out a laugh, resounded with almost a sigh attached.

She hears him respond, and she hangs back, unsure of what’s going on, but amused all the same.

He comes to rest his hands against the bar, and the blonde moves to grab one of them, but he slyly slips out of her grasp, patting the top of her hand, causing her smile to fall just a bit. Perking back up as a man approaches her from behind wrapping his arms around her.

He looks familiar around the eyes, and she tucks her hands in her jean pockets as she walks over to them.

Upon seeing her, TC extends his hand, wrapping around her waist to pull her into his side, a half smile nervously makes it way across her face.

“Guys, this is Jordan,” he declares, and she doesn’t miss the the once over she’s given by the blonde, narrowing her eyes at her. But the man wrapped around her extends his hand, a firm grip taking hold of her hand.

“Jordan, this is my brother Thad and his wife Annie,” he tells her, his eyes begging for something, but she’s unsure of what. Acceptance, maybe.

“So this is the girlfriend he keeps claiming to have,” Thad jokes, and TC shakes his head in good natured fun, before pulling her just a little bit closer.

“We were beginning to think you didn’t exist. The way he described you…almost too perfect,” Annie says, and her voice is light enough, but the subtext behind her words hits their intended target. But Jordan had never been one to back down.

“Gosh, T, what lies have you been telling them?” She teases back, feeling his fingers slip into the belt loop of her jeans.

Thad leans over his wife’s shoulder, as if attempting to whisper a secret to Jordan, and she instinctively leans in as well.

“You do realize you’re much too good for my baby brother, right?” A contagious smile attached to the insult, and despite disagreeing with his statement, she smiles back.

“Or maybe we’re just right,” she suggests with a raise of her eyebrow, challenging him.

She can feel Annie’s stare as they leaned closer, TC’s grip remaining around her.

“Nah, no way,” Thad says, and Jordan kind of shrugs, as he throws her a wink that suggests he approves, as a rumble of laughter breaks out between the two brothers.

As their round of drinks arrive, she takes a sip, setting her glass down to find Annie’s nearly gone.

“What?” Annie says, catching her flickering eye.

“Oh, nothing,” Jordan says quickly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “So umm, how did you meet Thad?”

“He got there first,” she says, picking up her glass and swallowing the rest of her beer.

xxxxx

Jordan exhaustedly gets out of the car, the news of Annie’s suicide weighing heavy on her, compounded by the fact that TC took off upon finding out.

Shoving one of her hands into her pocket, she dangles her keys from the other hand, their jingling marking each step that she makes up to her door.

A dark figure looming near, his knees pulled up, a pair of boots pushing against the ground, his hands worked into his hair, red rimmed eyes staring up at her.

“I…I’ve been looking for you,” she says, gesturing back to the car, before twisting around on her toes, standing next to his knee.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he says, his lip almost jutted out, frustration written on his face, tinged with a sadness that’s never quite gone away.

She chooses not to respond, instead working to sit next to him against the door, her hand coming to rest on his thigh, her thumbnail tracing the grain of his jeans.

“Is it me?” He asks, his brow pulled furrowed, his voice rough with lack of sleep and grief.

She looks over at him, squeezing his leg, a silent answer before her words catch up to her.

“No,” she says, moving closer, her free hand setting down her keys, before bringing it to his arm, lowering it to rest against his knee so she can see his face. “T, no,” she reiterates. “There was nothing you could’ve done,” and he nods at her words, deep down knowing that what she was saying was the truth, but she also knew that years of loss, sometimes it seemed one right after another, had left him emotionally scarred, unafraid of the physical scars he’d acquire as he ran head first into danger.

Except this time, he hadn’t done that. Instead he had run here. Home.

“I wasn’t there for her,” he dejectedly says. “For any of them,” he admits with a shudder that rocks his entire body, bringing his hand back up to his head.

“Hey, hey,” she tries to soothe him.

“I didn’t get here soon enough,” he almost whispers.

Annie’s words from all those years ago play in her head. Her eyes closing at the realization that his late timing for Annie had somehow brought her to him, not for the first time.

“You’re here now,” she says, never letting go of her grip on him, and he nods, looking over at her with watery eyes. A sad smile nodding back at him, before settling her head against his shoulder, one arm resting around his own, the other still gripping his leg. Their limbs intwined like their lives, playing in loops of parallels, their grief only spurring them forward, knowing better now, silent promises that this time he wasn’t running away, but instead running towards someone, planted firmly in her arms.


	12. Chapter 12

The sun soaks down, drenching her in sweat, the black shirt doing nothing more than attracting more heat to weigh down on her. The humidity of the day making the air sticky, like she’s treading through water to get from one place to another. While the end of summer was nearing for most of the country, here it lingered way past its welcome. And she was feeling it today.

Removing her helmet, she reaches up to flatten any stray pieces of hair that have escaped under duress all day. Her forearm lingering up to wipe away at her forehead, coming back wet and sticky.

Her gait still with its hop, the long day having only renewed her belief that they were doing something worthwhile, especially as she glances behind her.

He’s not far behind, a stubbled smile cast her way, and she quickly ducks her head back to the front. 

When she saw him step out of that white van, she thought she had made him up, some sort of hallucination of sorts.

Throughout the day she’d found herself looking for him, just for a second, as if assuring herself that hadn’t fled, he was really here.

But there he remained. Every single time.

She can hear the light hustle of his feet as he jogs to catch up with her. The exhaustion of the day meaning very little to him whenever he was determined.

“Hey,” he says, the smile having not dropped from his lips even after reaching her.

“Hi,” she says, angling herself towards him, and then quickly snapping back, front and center.

“So what are you doing later, because—“ He starts, which only serves to stop her.

“T,” she interrupts him. And then he’s in front of her, the dust from the dirt swirling up around them with every step they took. The drought of the summer just another restriction, a reminder of where they were, how far they’d come. “What are we doing?” She asks, exhausted, her head shaking with question. The relief from earlier only serving to confuse her, unaccustomed to him actually being there.

“We’re uhh, walking back to the van,” he says in a smart ass voice that has her cocking her head to the side, begging for something with a little more substance.

“You’re here,” she reiterates, prompting him, a tilt to her head, her green eyes looking almost translucent in the sun.

“I am,” he says with a half nod and a grin, taking a step towards her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

“And are you…” she all but whispers, her question lost in the contact his hands make with her neck, his thumb gently moving back and forth along her jawline.

“Staying?” He finishes for her, his grin never slipping, as he leans down, pressing his lips against her’s in a kiss that had been long overdue. Jordan freezes, unsure of what’s happening, before choosing to respond in kind, the pent up frustration only mirrored in the pressure one another. 

The last kiss she’d had from him, one of sadness, but even after the breakup, she never believed it to be the last. Somehow always finding their way back to each other. Just as they are now, standing in a barren field, filled with upturned cars, an obstacle course of training designed to test them. 

And as they stood there, dust swirling around them, before settling to the ground with the lack of movement, she couldn’t help but finally feel planted here, as he TC hesitantly pulled away, but only just so, his nose still touching her’s, until her eyes flutter open, her hand moving up to settle on his stubbled cheek.

She stares up at him, the question still on the tip of her tongue, despite his actions. Her eyes pleading for the words, the vocal confirmation that he’d begun earlier that morning.

“I’m staying, Jordan,” he says, sensing what she needs, his words sinking into her with a warm smile.

“You two coming?” They hear echoing out to them, the van waiting to bring them back to the hospital.

Her cheeks tint with a bit of a blush that she’ll later blame on the heat. But as they make their way back to the van, together, she can’t help be filled with a hope that this time, it would stick.

“So about tonight…,” he starts again, throwing his sweaty arm around her, perfectly content to add some more heat to the day.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been unusually cool that morning, or rather cool for San Antonio, dipping to 65 degrees, the clouds shaving blocked the sun from scorching its residents like every day before this.

Wrapping her sweater tighter around her, her dog, Max, walks along in front of her, checking back every once in a while to make sure she was still following along, Jordan nodding before they continued on.

The trees here never seemed to lose their leaves, here the weather never cold enough, and the types of leaves clinging to their branches, shining down green even in the dead of winter.

Jordan rarely found herself missing the east coast, her life so hectic that there wasn’t much time to contemplate her life before, but on a rare day off, she found herself staring up bitterly at the trees that never seemed to give her a break. 

Winter had always been brutal, but autumn, that was a different story. The changing leaves, the vibrant colors, letting her know that it was okay to fall every once in a while. It was oddly comforting. Here, it was as if they, she, were expected to constantly be holding on, showing your best side, clinging to an image that didn’t quite sit right with her.

She feels a tug on her arm, and she realizes that she’d stopped.

“Sorry,” she says with a little grin sent down at Max before moving again, her eyes glancing down at her still flat stomach, as they circle back towards home.

She sees him sitting on her steps, Max tugging on her to greet him. Letting go of the leash, he races up, trampling over TC’s lap, giving him a big lick on the face, that has Jordan fighting back a laugh. Her tongue coming out to lick her bottom lip, before biting down, a hint of a smile lighting up her otherwise gloomy face at the sight.

TC’s hand rests on the dog’s head, as she turns to settle next to him, burying her face in the collar of her sweater.

His free hand comes to rest on her knee, and she peeks up at him.

“I brought back dinner,” he says, holding up a bag.

Jordan scrunches her face, not much sitting well with her stomach these days.

“And this,” he says pulling out a cup of coffee.

She reaches for it, wrapping her hands around the hot cup, a content sigh escaping from her as she takes a sip.

He laughs at her reaction, patting Max on the side, whose settled down by him.

Staring down at her cup, her fingernail traces the printed doodles.

“Thanks,” she says, before turning her head towards him, peeking through the veil of hair hanging in her face.

He reaches out, tucking it behind her ear.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, puckering his lips in that way that suggests he’s trying not to make a big deal about something that actually was.

“You want to talk?” She asks, and he raises his brow at her.

“It would be you talking,” he says with a nudge at her shoulder.

She sits in silence, contemplating the mood that had slowly overtaken her normally cheerful personality and turned it into something downhearted.

“Do you…think we’ll be good parents?” She asks, which seems to catch him off-guard, half-expecting her to have brought up the case yesterday.

He gives an awkward laugh, before running his hand through his hair.

“Uhh,” he hesitates, but her face remains impassive, just waiting for a response. “You…you will be a great mother,” he says, leaning in to place a kiss on her temple, lingering there, the stubble scratching her face.

“And you?” She asks into him.

“I’m sure as hell gonna try,” he assures her, pulling her body closer, until her head is resting on his shoulder. “We won’t be like them,” he whispers, and she knows he’s referring to the parents from yesterday.

“You don’t know that,” she says, almost forlorn at her fate. “We work just as much,” she says with a sigh, her hand finding its way to her stomach, Max glancing over at her with his tongue sticking out at her movement. Her eyes welling up with tears.

“You gonna go all mama bear on me again?” He teases, causing a muffled laugh to cough from her.

“Stop,” she whines, pushing at his chest.

“We’re going to be okay, you’ll see,” he promises, and although she knows it’s not something he can guarantee, she wants to believe he’s right.

Content in the moment to continue leaning against him, letting him catch her as she falls into her autumn.


	14. Chapter 14

Jordan scoots to the end of the seat, leaning over as far as way as she can. But even despite her far lean, she’s still making contact with TC’s leg. Her eyes closing to take a deep breath, the proximity of him not something she was prepared for.

She had successfully avoided him, choosing to spend a couple of months clearing her head, getting some space. Only to come back and find that the feelings she’d been running from had come screaming back to her as soon as she saw him.

Resolving to be the bigger person, she had tried to simply side-step him, keep it professional. But before she knew it, they were arguing in the middle of the ER, every prying eye of their friends landing on them, listening carefully to every word uttered from them.

Her hands had come to her head, attempting to take a breath, settle down, explain for what felt like the millionth time why she had been upset, why what he had done had hurt her.

Their lack of communication seeming to tear a rift between them that had only served in festering over the last couple of months, a gaping, open wound that had a bandaid applied, only serving to mask the pain. And seeing him stand in front of her, argue that leaving had been something she’d approved of, it felt like the bandaid had been ripped from her skin, exposing the wound all over again.

Her hand moving to pull the sleeves of her jacket over her palms. Attempting to keep her attention anywhere but on the man that was sitting entirely too close. 

It was unsettling, their routine falling right back to how it had been before, except everything was different.

Suddenly, calls involving children seemed to tug at the wound, rubbing salt all over, that irritating sting that worked its way into a sharp intake of breath. 

But she just can’t help it.

Her eyes flicker every once in a while to find him stoically looking out the window. Knowing that he was hiding how he felt, like always.

“Jordan,” he starts, and she moves her head back down.

“I don’t want fight anymore,” she says barely above a whisper, almost lost in the whir of the helicopter.

“Neither do I,” he says with a bit of a laugh to the end.

“Look, we have to work together, so let’s just…be civil. We can do that, right?” She asks, peering up at him, her green eyes begging for him to make this okay.

It wasn’t the first time they’d suffered a breakup, awkwardly walking the halls of the hospital, except this time they weren’t on opposite shifts.

“I think we can manage that,” he says, nudging her softly against the shoulder.

And she wants to smile. She wants to pretend like nothing has been lost. Except it’s different this time. 

They had been so close to getting everything. A proposal. A baby. All of which were gone. And they were left to pick up the pieces, find a way to move on.

But even as she sat in the helicopter with the man she’d called it quits with, she couldn’t help but feel them hover above a life that involved them back together. The two of them never really over.

“Let’s just focus on finding this kid,” he encourages, but she can see it in his eyes. The words that neither of them will speak.

They still had a chance to save this kid, but not their own.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a nod, as they touch down.


	15. Chapter 15

Jordan gives a deep sigh, her break having come at the perfect time, her patience having worn thin with everyone today. Their odd behavior was bordering on telling, as they nearly sprinted in every direction as soon as she turned the corner.

Working cases had been fine, they’d all managed to stick around then, but as soon as the crisis was over, and she moved to say anything remotely personal, they’d cut her off, come up with an excuse to leave.

She wasn’t one to let things like that get to her, but it was like they were all keeping something from her, a knowing look in their eyes, a sly grin as they ran off.

For the most part she’d just scrunched her face in confusion, made a lame joke about the way she smelled, tossed her hands up, spinning around to an empty area, and then collapsed them back to her sides.

“Shannon, come on,” she says, the woman holding up her hands in surrender before disappearing around the other side of the wall.

Stalking outside, she moves to the bench where she’d spent many nights hands tangled in her hair with frustration, a warm body usually next to her, one of them always talking the other off the proverbial cliff.

Tonight, she was alone.

Although, she notes the holiday lights strung up in the shrubbery near her, a little early for Christmas, but paying no mind, as they did seem to decorate earlier and earlier each year.

Her hands move to the pockets of her scrubs, the weather not even close to cold despite the time of year, the humidity never letting up even after the sun had gone down for the day.

“Hey, stranger,” she hears, looking up to find the smiling face of her boyfriend.

“What are you doing here?” She asks with a laugh. Choosing to stay seated, as he makes his way over to her.

“I uhh, had the night off,” he says with a sort of nod of his head, his smile remaining through the stubble.

“I heard something about that,” she says, eyes squinted in mock contemplation, given that she’d made the schedule.

“Rough night?” He asks, sitting in the open spot next to her. Her arms immediately linking through his own, bringing them closer together.

“Yes,” she groans. “You know, I swear, the people here get weirder every day,” she says, bringing her chin to his shoulder.

“What’d they say?” He asks, his grin threatening to leave, but she shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she says, smiling into him. “Just…avoiding me.”

“Ahhh,” he says, grabbing her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Do you remember the first time we sat here?” She asks.

“How could I forget, you punched me in the arm for running off without you,” she says, rubbing his arm as if it still hurt.

She lightly punches him again.

“You’re lucky I came after you,” she jokes.

“I am,” he replies sincerely, looking down at her, placing a kiss on her head.

“Hmm,” she hums, squeezing him just a bit tighter.

“So I, uhh, actually came down here for a reason,” he says, nearly separating them to turn his body to look at her.

“You just can’t stay away,” she jokes, and he gives a faint laugh, quieting her as she realizes he’s being serious.

“Jordan,” he starts, and she eyes him warily. “I love you.“ Her hand coming to her mouth, realizing what he was doing, as he reached into his pocket.

“T,” she nearly gasps.

“I was gonna give you this long speech, and you deserve the speech, but I just…you’re my home, Jordan. The place I feel safest, the place I always come back to. Doesn’t matter where are, as long as I’m with you…I’m home.”

At this point, she’s crying, not unlike the last time he did this, but this time, for a completely different reason.

“And I will spend the rest of my life making you feel the same if you’ll marry me…?” He asks, holding out the ring to her.

She can see it, the sincerity of his promise that he been missing before, the commitment that wasn’t based on fear, but rather a genuine love that she knew he’d always felt. He was choosing her.

On their bench. And suddenly the avoidance of everyone makes sense, and she internally laughs at how she was the last to know.

She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck, squishing the ring between them.

“Is that, uhh, a yes?” He asks.

“Yes,” she whispers into his ear, separating only for a second so he can put the ring on her finger.

She glances down at the ring, sparkling in the lights around them.

Looking back at him, she pushes her hair behind her ear. Her green eyes shimmering with tears.

“We’re home,” she agrees with him, bringing him into a kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

The blustery Maryland air whips against her face as she makes her way up the walkway of her apartment. Winter this year had come early, pushing fall out of its way and making its presence known. Snow hadn’t yet fallen, but it due any moment, if her red nose and frozen ears were any indication.

Her numb fingers attempt to grip the key enough to maneuver her way into her apartment. She had finally slid the metal into the slot when her door yanked open.

“Oh my god,” she says with a jump, her hair bouncing with the movement, and a laugh swallowed by the wind coming from the man who’d opened the door. “You nearly scared me to death,” she says, half punching, half pushing him back into the warm apartment that was teasing her out in the cold.

“I thought I heard you out here,” he says with a grin, as she shuts the door behind her with a shiver.

“It’s freezing,” she says with a chatter to her teeth, bypassing him to head into her room. Emerging only after she’d ditched her clothes for a pair of his sweatpants, and a baggy sweater she reserved just for bed. Her feet were bare, and a ghostly white as they defrosted.

TC had seated himself back on the couch, a beer in hand. Reaching for the blanket from behind his head, she tugged on it, until he moved, releasing it into her grasp, snuggling up its warmth, as she plopped onto the couch.

He holds out his beer to her, but she shakes her head, her teeth coming to bite into her bottom lip.

“You look like that kid from that movie you always make me watch,” he says, taking a pull of his drink. “You know,” he says with a laugh. “The one who can’t put his arms down.”

Her eyes narrow in a playful way, but the cold still rattles her frame.

“In a cute way though,” he says, as she buries her feet underneath his thigh.

He jumps upon contact, the material of his pants not enough to shield him from her cold feet.

“Get those blocks of ice away from me,” he jokes, and a pout comes to her mouth, her eyes still narrowed.

But she proceeds to tuck them further underneath him, the heat from his body, seeping into her.

“Be nice,” she taunts, and he relents, his hand coming to grip one of her shins, squeezing for a second.

“You and your cold feet, they could wake a sleeping bear,” he teases, rubbing her leg, his hand slowly making its way to her feet.

“Yeah well, you practically are a bear in the mornings,” she throws back, collapsing back into the pillows of the couch.

He gives a laugh, tilting his head in surrender, knowing when to admit she was right.

“I swear, the next move, it better be somewhere warm,” she says with another shiver, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. He gives her a grin at the implication that her next move would also be his.

“Somewhere warm, huh?” His hand now wrapped around her ankle, her toes wiggling underneath his leg.

“Sunny all year round, baby,” a piece of her brown hair catching in her eyelashes, causing his eyes to linger there.

“Then you’d complain about the heat,” he reasons, knowing the humidity of the summer here wasn’t her favorite season either.

“I’d rather be hot than cold,” she says with a huff, leaning forward towards his face to make her point.

His hand releases her ankle, moving to push the the piece of hair caught, gently out of her face, her cheeks still rosy from the chill.

“You’re definitely hot,” he says, his charm peeking out, an impish grin spread on his stubbled face.

“Smooth,” she says with a shake of her head, reaching for his beer, taking a sip herself, before removing her feet from his leg in order to curl up into his side.

“Warm and sunny,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he teases, as she buries her face in his warm arm.

“Hmm,” she hums, finally feeling like she was heating up.


End file.
